


I Get High - You Wanna Come Down, Get Down

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Band Fic, Best Friends, Comfort/Angst, Coming Out, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Embarrassment, F/M, Fights, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hugs, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecurity, M/M, Panic, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, References to Homophobia, Roger Taylor (Queen) Is a Good Friend, Sex Positive, Sex Talk, Sharing a Bed, Slurs, Smoking, Swearing, Sweet, This is getting tough second chapter, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24140629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: At times there are subjects that aren't the most comfortable sorts to broach, but mean a lot when discussed with a friend.(In which Roger and Brian and Roger and Freddie have two very different but hopefully helpful conversations.)Warning for mature themes. Please read the tags, and see the story notes.
Relationships: Brian May & Freddie Mercury, Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, Brian May & Roger Taylor, Brian May/Chrissie Mullen, Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, Freddie Mercury/Original Male Character(s), Mary Austin/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Non-explicit discussions on sex for the most part are below - I did my best to write from realistic experience about understanding the nature of carnality and what it means to people in various types of relationships, such as (perhaps) their first with a certain degree of physical intimacy, or the discovery of desiring a different sort of intimacy.
> 
> I have, as always, aimed to be respectful to all parties involved, and hope that I've been successful.

Brian asks Roger for advice on carnal relations. 

No, it's not a subject he would typically broach; not with Rog, though Brian's become aware of Roger's own tastes and sexual knowledge in various and sundry ways, some of which--many of which he would be fine with not ever witnessing again, thank you. 

But Roger is so easygoing and does tend to know a lot about this particular subject, and that's always appealed to Brian--gaining knowledge in order to better himself. So he finally works up the nerve. Or, well, some nerve.

It's one of those nights they're in the flat alone together, the pair of them, Freddie having gone out with Mary; and they've eaten supper and shared a bottle of drink. Brian had tucked into the alcohol more earnestly than usual on this particular occasion, and Roger had cocked a brow and then laughed as he said "Y' may want to slow down there, Bri. Trying to get up th' courage for something?"

He had been joking, but with cheeks bright red, looking down, and stuttering so quietly that Rog can barely hear what he’s saying, Brian speaks. Pushes the bottle of alcohol away from himself as he utters 

"Erm, Rog, I-- I have a question. W-well, what I want to ask you is. It's something as, erm, the man who's got the most experience of anyone I know, that you'd know. I-I don't feel comfortable asking Fred because, well. I don't have much experience and I don't know what his practises with Mary might be. It'd just, it'd be a bit awkward to ask about them, you know, since I went with her for a bit, and I don't--"

"Brian." Roger cocks his head and swigs some drink, waving a hand before sighing. "Just spit it out, mate."

"What if I-- I'm not boring in bed," Brian blurts, as though attempting to convince himself of this. As Roger had unfortunately just taken a drink he now spits alcohol, which makes his friend jerk back. "Oh, Roger, I,"

"Sorry," Rog gasps, wiping his eyes and face and then the surface of the table before waving one hand at Brian. "Go on, mate."

"I don't think--" Brian begins, but he clenches both fists and hisses out a breath. He'd started this, and he feels a bit fuzzy, though not enough to be entirely comfortable. Doesn't know if he can, or will; however, based upon the expression on Roger's face, now he has to continue speaking or he will never hear the end of it. "Well, erm. I want to do something --if I want to broach new--err, sexual territory, I...how can I do that, Rog?"

Roger blinks, smacks his lips. Folds his hands together and rests elbows on their little table to ask directly "What're you thinking, Bri?"

Brian coughs, thrusts hands through his hair and shuts his eyes. "Oh, I don't know, this is stupid, I'm sorry--"

The blond sighs. "Oh for fuck's sake, no, it isn't stupid! I mean what d'you want to do? And, this is important--have you asked?" The look on Brian's face is enough to answer Roger's question. "Alright then, you HAVEN'T asked. Well, you should. That's the first step to anything, asking what your partner likes and wants, Brian." Brian looks so serious and nervous. Roger shakes his hair back and gets down to help. "Alright, mate. First, please tell me there's foreplay," Roger adds. "Touches, kisses, dirty talk, whatever." As Brian's face blanches, appearing scandalised, he says "I'm not saying you _have_ to talk dirty, Bri! There are lots of different things! God, d'you really not know any of this?" He rubs his hand across his face and shakes his head. 

"It's alright, you'll just have to learn by-- hm. By thinking what feels good to you, and to her. I'm sure she's told you SOME things she likes, or let you know at least, yeah?" Roger starts grinning wickedly. "She has to have given you sommmme hints," he draws out the word with a cheeky gasp added for good measure and Brian blushes til he can't blush any redder.

Bri rests his head against the wall next to the table at which they are both sitting and covers his face with both hands. "Forget I said anything, please," he speaks through his long fingers.

Roger leans forward with a smile that goes from cheeky to gentle as he reaches across the table and tugs on Brian's wrists. "Bri, c'mon, it's not a fucking taboo, mate. Well might be to some people, but if you're asking, it's not. C'mon, I'm not gonna just forget about this now, let me help you."

With his long fingers still clamped over his face, Brian groans. "...how is this helpful, exactly, Rog?"

Roger shakes some blond hair out of his face and reaches up to push Brian's back, tugging on one of his friend's midnight curls for emphasis. "It's helpful because you asking shows you care about Chrissie, you numpty. You want to do what she likes, and even if you haven't asked HER, at least you're asking. Baby steps." He tugs on Bri's hair and relinquishes it to tap on the table surface with his knuckles for positive emphasis as he gives his friend an approving nod. "Proud of you for it, Brian."

"Thank you," Brian says softly, able to lower his hands at last and swallow hard. "And I--do know a few things she enjoys, yes."

"Attaboy!" Roger crows, entire face lighting up in a grin. "You're alright, then--just ask her about more, or ask as you try something. Every girl I'm with I ask what she wants. No exceptions."

"Okay," Brian responds softly. "It's just--" he stops abruptly.

Roger encourages him. "Just what, Bri?"

"I-- want her so much, I feel like such a… horndog at times," Brian confesses. Shrinks in on himself, ashamed.

Roger inhales. His eyes narrow to slits at that comment and his hand shoots out to shove Brian in the centre of the chest. Bri jerks in surprise. 

"Roger, what--"

"I'll thump you if you call yourself anything like that again, Brian. That's what," the blond growls. "This is natural! It's good for you to want her, and want to please her! There's nothing fucking wrong with wanting that." He glowers at the taller man hard, his high sweet voice snapping in a manner incongruously sharp. "Got it?"

Brian stills. He remains beet-red from embarrassment, but Roger's vehemence and his certainty have somehow made Bri feel almost... light. He doesn't feel comfortable by any means, but Roger is. Roger is helping him, and the most important part of that, or so it seems, is for Bri not to feel low or dirty or ashamed of himself, of his wants and needs. 

And that truly means a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roger Taylor seems like a polite sex positive individual, and I wanted to showcase his willingness to assist Brian even with the things Bri might find hard to say. Really think there should be less of a taboo around discussion of sexual subjects, as long as there is respect involved. I have had some discussions a bit like this in my own life.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie comes home, apparently in pain, and Roger talks to him
> 
> WARNING for references to slurs and homophobia expressed via violence. People can be arseholes, but Roger Taylor is one of the good ones

Roger talks with Brian more until they end up on the couch and Bri, probably because of his mind working so hard as well as the excessive amount of alcohol he'd consumed, drops off to sleep on the sofa, his midnight curls a-tangle. He had dragged both hands through his hair upwards of twenty times, particularly when Roger did some in-depth explaining "Jesus, Rog, you know a lot of things!" 

Roger now chuckles, tucking a blanket over his friend's thin shivering shoulder before getting a glass of water for Bri to drink once he wakes up, as well as another for himself.

He ends up beside the window, smoking. Has cracked the glass open a bit, when jangling keys precede Fred's arrival, something Roger hadn't expected but welcomes. He waves away the smoke and puts out his fag to go over, because typically Freddie is exuberant in the extreme when entering and though it may not wake Brian from his present drunken stupor, the drummer doesn't want to take any chances. 

So he is on his way to the door, when it abruptly opens and there Freddie stands.

Leans, more like --heavily against the doorjamb. Worse is the expression in his eyes, a fragility, and he moves as though in pain. Roger is instantly on him, his medical mind on alert to assess his friend's condition, both hands going to Freddie's shoulders.

"Fuck, Fred, you alright?"

Freddie's colour-outlined eyes flutter up and "Fucking has everything to do with it," he nearly slurs, almost overbalances. His eyes are puffy --from crying, Roger thinks. Hopes it's only that, because honestly the way Freddie is moving has awoken a dark terror in him that he hasn't felt since childhood. 

Oh, god. "C'mon, mate, let's get you to the kitchen or something--" Roger stops as Freddie, hand trembling, reaches out and touches his chest, curling his fingers round Roger's open shirt. 

"Bed," the dark-haired man croaks, eyes pitiful even as he tries so hard to smile. "Just, can you take me to my bed, darling, please?"

Roger swallows. His eyes are prickling, heart is hammering madly, but he tries to stay steady. "'Course, Fred. Whatever you want," he automatically loops Freddie's arm around his shoulders, rubs the other man's hand. "Probably better anyway, Brian's conked out on the couch."

"Sweet Brimi," Freddie whispers as they pass Bri's tousled head shining from the glint of moonlight coming in. The light also illumes Freddie's arms, and on his skin are dark places that could be shadows, but

"Bruises," Roger sucks in a breath and feels white-hot fury wash through his whole body like an immolating flame. "Where the fuck are they from? If it's Mary, I swear to God Fred, I don't care she's a girl I'll fucking go at her so--"

"Shh, shh, dear," Freddie soothes, but the trembling of his hand as he strokes Roger's chest belies his calm demeanor. "Mary's done nothing, no, nothing but ask--" Freddie's voice stops, almost cracks as they enter his bedroom and Roger carefully leads him to settle onto the bedspread. "...she asked if we could try for children. She wants a child, Liz."

A child. Oh dear. That's a loaded discussion. Roger's eyes widen as he carefully sits next to Freddie, bright blue gaze roving over his friend's face. "What'd you say?" He asks carefully, licking his lips, hand on Freddie's forearm.

Freddie looks down, his own hand still touching Roger's chest and shirt. He swallows and waves the opposite hand about in his typical dramatic fashion. "Oh, I said I'd rather have a cat, darling," tries to speak lightly as he catches Roger's eyes. "As you do."

Roger laughs, can't stop himself. That statement and everything about it is quintessentially Fred. "As you do, certainly." He shifts a little closer, growing serious. "How'd she take it, though?"

Freddie glances away now, his lips trembling a little. "...Not well," he breathes. "Seemed to think that I was mocking her, and said she loves me, but I ought to leave if I need to figure things out."

Roger hauls in a breath through his nose. "Shit."

"Yes." Freddie smacks his lips and shifts a shoulder. "So, I did. I left. Went to a bar, and..."

Roger wraps his arm around Freddie's shoulders, pulling his friend closer. Doesn't quite know why but is acutely aware that his dearest Freddie needs this.

There's a squeak, a whimper, and Freddie is suddenly crying, his face in Roger's chest, cool tears striking and running down Rog's bare pectorals and dripping onto his abdomen. Freddie softly wails "I, I threw myself at them, Roger. There were men, I-- I mean I'm not, I don't,"

"Freddie," Roger presses his face into Fred's fluffy hair, both arms holding tight to him now as he rocks his friend back and forth a little. His high voice is trembling though he wills it not to. "You're scaring me, mate. What happened? Did someone hurt you?"

"No," Freddie sniffles. "No, they didn't. They did what I wanted." He lifts his face and the broken expression in those deep brown eyes breaks Roger's heart before the words. "I mean what can I expect if I get in the middle of a pub and come on to the biggest men in the room?"

Roger's eyes widen. All he can think to say is "...were you in a leather bar then?"

Freddie chokes in shock, shaking his head and withdrawing immediately from Roger's arms, though the blond keeps a hand on his back nonetheless. "No, no I wasn't. Darling, I've just told you I came on to men, I fancy blokes, and you, you,"

"Breathe, Fred," Roger counsels, hearing the start of a wheeze that tells him Freddie may be about to start hyperventilating. "Focus on my voice, let's count together, yeah? One, two, three. Easy now." As Freddie breathes, Roger adds whilst rubbing his back "I don't give a fuck, you like who you like. What'd they look like? Blond, brunette? Don't tell me you like gingers," he flicks his tongue and grins teasingly. "Dunno if I could take that. But honestly it doesn't matter. Only thing that matters is, what did they do?" His voice starts rising. "Did they hurt you, Fred?"

Freddie looks away, so his "no" isn't the most believable. "I mean, what d'you think happened, dear? Little old me coming on to some big strong men--not my finest moment, I'll admit, I wasn't thinking. They called me a little pouf, and well. You can imagine."

"No shit, but I can't imagine what it's like for you," Roger says. "Only know what it is to have wankers thinking I'm gay, or whatever. Not-- well, are you?" Roger's eyes narrow a little now as he tries to understand. Apologises. "Sorry, it's just. You do still love Mary, so that's,"

"Yes, I absolutely adore her," Freddie says, open sincerity in his face. Tears still track down his cheeks as he whispers "I just-- I can't give her what she wants, and I'm not--"

"Ah, ah, Fred," Roger stops him, shakes his shoulders a bit. "You're everything you need to be, alright? I think you're bloody wonderful, and you were honest with Mary, so. You're honest with yourself."

"You, you're not...angry with me?" Freddie asks, the hopeful but ready to be crushed expression on his face breaking Roger's heart all over again.

Voice impossibly gentle, Roger draws Freddie to him and buries his head in the other man's neck for a hug. "No, Fred," Roger murmurs. "This is who you are, and I love you, you know." Freddie's little hitch in breath as he hears tells Roger he might not, in fact, have known that. He holds on to Freddie tighter, strong arms and hands cinching around the slimmer singer, doing his level best to make Fred feel safe. "Well, I do. Brian does too. And if any tosser has a problem with who you are, they're going to have to deal with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roger is such a good friend
> 
> Hope you liked this, I don't think the chapter ended quite as angsty as I expected, which was gratifying. I'm thinking this is taking place in the early '70s... Though I don't know where John is, so perhaps the timeline is '74 when he's with Veronica, as Brian is with Chrissie. 
> 
> As always, I hope I was respectful. Please let me know what you think.
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

It's late, but not too late; well, the sky is a lighter blue-black-grey than it had been the last Brian saw. Apparently he had dropped off after talking to Roger. Dear Roger, dealing with Bri's abysmal lack of knowledge, not to mention... oh, god. Even before he rolls over and his stomach lurches from all the drink, Brian feels sick with embarrassment. He sits up and buries his face into his knees with an inarticulate sound, and then at a lack of loud laughter or tousling of his hair, the guitarist lowers his hands and looks up. 

"...Rog?"

He is alone in the sitting room, Brian finds out as he turns and lifts his head; the edge of a blanket he hadn't realised was tucked around his shoulders falls free as he moves, unbending his legs to hear sounds coming from... he believes it's Freddie's room, which is a trifle startling, as he expected Fred to stay the night at Mary's. 

Feet cramping a trifle on the chilly floor, Brian shuffles down the tiny hall and peers into the room, pausing behind the cracked-open door to see Freddie lying with his head in Roger's lap, Rog's hand caressing the other man's dark hair. It looks as if Roger hasn't slept; his hair is mussed and eyes are puffy. Not from crying, though, surely-- the drummer doesn't often cry. 

Brian wouldn't think anything of the look of Roger's eyes, only feel sorry that his friend has not slept. Must be having a night similar to most of Brian's, where his mind doesn't turn off and thus he had come in to talk to Fred. Except Freddie is clutching onto Roger's leg with one hand as though his life depends upon it, and the dear sweet singer's broad shoulders are shaking. 

Brian's heart is what lurches this time, and with his eyes huge, he comes right into the room, long body almost entering at a run as he looks to Roger before dropping his hand to curl across Freddie's upper back. "Fred...,"

The shakes stop, hitch with a sound, and Freddie rolls to the side, almost seeming to flinch away, face shiny in the waning moonlight as he lifts his head, and Brian has no idea what his Freddie was or is crying about but he does not need to. Legs folding underneath himself, Brian sinks to his knees and wraps his arm completely around Freddie, automatically pulling the weeping man into his slim side. Free hand comes up to press against Brian's own lips, his fingers trembling as he looks at Rog, whose eyes telegraph stout loyalty and stubbornness and feeling. Whatever Freddie's upset over, Roger is sticking by, staying at his side. And so Brian will too.

He cards his fingers through Freddie's hair and whispers past a growing lump in his throat, feeling tears of empathy prickle at the edges of his eyes though he knows not yet over what he cries, Brian whispers "It's your Brian, Freddie. I'm here with you."

Freddie chokes on a sob and presses his tear-soaked cheek into Brian's side even as Bri feels his shoulders tensing up. "Would you... still be here with me, darling, if you knew I-- that I prefer the company of men?" He seems so worn-out suddenly, as if making such a statement, so baldly, has taken all his energy. 

Brian blinks and cocks his head. "I-- of course, Freddie, I mean I prefer you lot to most other people," his gentle voice is sincere "... though having been to an all-boys school for years I wouldn't say I solely prefer male company."

Roger expels a quiet snort of almost amusement and a long blink. "Brian..."

The look on Freddie's face then, coupled with his immense amount of emotion as well as Roger's look, it all makes another meaning click in Brian's brain. _Oh._ "Oh," he whispers, and then a rush of sorrowful affection tightens his chest as he bends his body to rest his head against Freddie's. "Yes, Fred, I would. I will. I am." He bumbles a bit over the words but the pressure of his hand and tone of his voice are both steady, steadfast, true. "That doesn't matter to me. Why should it?" Brian makes a promise to himself, and from the expression he sees in Roger's sharp eyes, it seems the drummer has too.

Freddie blinks and gasps and looks up at Bri and then at Rog, whose hand is still stroking his hair. How did he get so lucky in his attachment to this pair of dear people, he isn't sure. It is a fact to ponder some rainy day, but for now he simply counts his blessings and curls his body into both of theirs, inviting Brian up onto the bed as well, snuggling down next to Roger, who stretches himself out. There is nothing to be said, no verbal thanks that could in any way equal the joy within his heart, the surety that he is acceptable and accepted by these wonderful souls. That he is worth something to them, and they love him.

All Freddie thinks to say, so softly, is "Oh, my loves." 

In response to which Brian clutches him tighter and expels a shuddering exhalation, almost a sob.

Roger presses his lips to Freddie's head, saying for both of them: "We've got you, Fred. You're alright, and you'll be all right. We're here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so this ends with snuggles, as many of (I think) the best stories do. 
> 
> Brian is such a sweet, empathetic, innocent soul, and I just adore Roger in his stolid brightness. Freddie is so full of love and shy concern that I hope I did justice to. Many thanks to these dear men for showcasing such love for each other always.
> 
> Comments are appreciated <3


End file.
